My Giant and Me (A Fluffy Pony Hugbox Story) Part 10

My Giant and Me, Part 10


>In the alleys and back-streets, the Herd rushes from hiding place to hiding place, calling out for their friends, telling them it's alright now, they can be helped.
>At the forefront is a Green Pegasus Stallion, his fluff drenched with sweat as he relentlessly runs onwards.
>Some of the Stallions have been found, hugged by the Mares and broke down into tears as they were hugged and gently chided for being silly and mean.
>Cobble was found near the Hole into the 'Garden', her hooves bloody and chafed where she had been trying to dig her way back in, but the Hole had been filled in tight with dirt.
>One of the Stallions your Herd found nearby said he could hear Fluffies talking inside the tall, impenetrable fence, but then he heard the cry of the Giant Monster, a loud "WOOF" and then he thought he heard Cowbell squealing ... and then he ran away.
>You didn't blame him for that. You'd explained to the Mares that the Giant Monster was several times bigger than even the biggest Stallion, so fast that the Herd had had no chance to escape it, but that it hadn't really hurt any Fluffy except the Smarty Friend.
>They want to go back and get all the Colts and Fillies, but first, everyone wants to gather up the Stallions, to make them understand that they can be Good Fluffies again.
>The Herd's Fillies and Colts are in the hooves of Cowbell, they should be fine ...
>But you've only found Cobble, Fern is no-where to be found, and only four of the Stallions have been recovered. The father and son were found dead on the road, the Herd assumes they had been trying to cross to get to each other when a Meanie Road Monster squished them both, and there is the foul, amonia-laden stench of a tom-cat in the air...
>So now the Herd is circling the block of houses, trying to find another way into that backyard, and hoping against all experience to the contrary that their children are still alive.

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>Be the Owner of Silk and Bruce.
>Currently, wondering if Saint Bernards can experience full-body Joy-Gasms, as Bruce the young Saint Bernard seems to be having one as every single Colt, Fillie and Foal is hugging him or lying on his back, praising him for being warm and soft and snuggly.
>You, however, are stuck with the rotten job of stripping Bruce's bedding out after one of the young Fluffies peed in it.
>Silk's keeping an eye on the Colts and Fillies for you and Cowbell, while Cowbell deals with the two remaining Feral Foals, Orange and Purple.
>You couldn't let them commit mutual suicide ... but then again, considering how Cowbell has turned from whimpering emotional wreck into the Drill Seargent from Hell, maybe it would have been kinder!
>"Yuu nu haf moar miwk-nummies! Yuu haf miwk-nummies, an' haf dem 'gain, an' haf dem 'gain, an' wook at yuu! Suuuu fat yuu nu can wawk!" She barks loudly at the two Foals, as they lie on the grass and bawl insults at each other, and her. "Yuu Stuuuuuupid Mumma nu heaw tu make Hewd be nice tu yuu now! Yuu gon' wisten, an' yuu gonna be Guud Fwuffies now, owr Cowbeww gon' gif yuu paddwes!"
>"Nuuuu! Miwk fo' Bes' Baybeh!" Orange squeals loudly, so loud in fact the nearest Colts and Fillies stop playing with and on Bruce to stare. "Gif! Miwk, gif! Stuuuup'd Mumma!"
>Oh shit Fluffy, what are you doing?
>It's on now, judging by how much Cowbell's cheeks puffed up.
>Cowbell explained to you earlier that these two Foals belonged to 'Fern', the mate of the Herd's pink pegasus Smarty Friend, and the one who came up with, and then abused, the 'Milk Sharing Plan'.
>Every time Cobble or Cowbell tried to keep some milk for their own babies, Fern would yell at them and threaten to tell the Smarty Friend that they were bad mothers. And Bad Mothers got a beating and their precious babies taken away.
>So Cowbell was very interested in teaching the two foul-tempered Foals a lesson on sharing. And the Orange Foal just made this personal.
>Some people might call this cruel. You call it an emergency measure to stop these two turning into relentless bastards like their parents.
>Cowbell doesn't even flinch, she just leans over, pushes the Orange foal's face and chest into the grass with one hoof, then uses her other front leg to paddle the Foal's now-raised backside with her little marshmallow hoof, cheeks still puffed out angrily.
>To you, it'd be about as damaging as being tapped with a feather.
>To the Foal, it's like every form of torture known to man, all at once, judging from the outraged squealing. If Fern was the bitch that Cowbell has painted her to be, the Foals probably never got punished for anything before.
>Purple, for his part, is lying on the grass and laughing at the spanking of his sister.
>"Meanie! Meanie haf owies! Aww miwk fo' Bes' Baybeh!" he cheers loudly, even when Cowbell turns an incredulous look on him.
>Jesus, they might only be two days old, but man they don't like each other ...
>Now it's two Foals squished down on the ground together, Cowbell paddling both their raised asses and telling them to be good, or she will keep it up.
>"Nuuu! Am guud baybeh, nu owies!"
>"Nuu owies! Bes' baybeh!"
>"Nuuu! Am Bes' baybeh!"
>"Nuuuuuuu am Bes' baybeh!"
>And there's Cowbell's little leg, windmilling furiously, her soft little marshmallow hoof making a phock noise as it slaps on the exposed rears of the Foals.
>"Wiww yuu two be guud, owr does Cowbeww haf gif moar paddwes?" She demands loudly, glaring down at the top of them in disgust. Two fat, healthy Foals with beautiful colours, but with unfortunate selfish, demanding personalities that make even your jimmies rustle ominously.
>For a Mare who has endured so much suffering and loss with her own children, the very existence of these two spoiled brats must be like rubbing salt on an open wound.
>Silk, for her own part, is having a joy-gasm of her own as the Feral Fillies coo and squeal in delight as her own babies, adopted or otherwise, are passed around, hugged and cuddled and squeezed.
>Having such fat, healthy, happy Foals must be a great social status amongst Fluffy Ponies, as little Silk seems to be able to ask anything and the Fillies scramble to help.
>Red and White foals seem to be the most popular, and enjoy the rounds of Hugs and Cuddles immensely, although you do notice that some of the Fillies are a little nervous when holding the Pink Foal, probably because it has the exact same colouration as their Smarty Friend, but a quick check that it is indeed a female seems to calm most of their anxiety.
>Surely everything here can wait while you go inside, dump the soiled blankets in a bucket of water and detergent to soak, and get some more old towels and blanets to pad Bruce's bed with?

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>Be Cowbell, and you're so frustrated with these two little Foals that Fern had that you're about to start tearing your own fluff off!
>Meanie babies! They are so fat! You can see their litte bellies bulging so much that if they were walking, their bellies would be dragging on the ground, and yet they want moar milk-nummies!
>Your milk, Fern's milk, Cobble's milk, even the dusty-smelling-very-sweet-not-mumma-milk the Human gave them, it's all in there! And still they ask for more!
>Your own babies are only now, after two days, full enough that they don't need to nurse constantly! Cobble's little green Foal finally has some fat on him! For the first time in ... forever, every Filly, Colt and Foal has eaten their fill without having to eat yikky or rotten nummies or push their friends away from the food!
>And still these two greedy, selfish little Fluffies want more! You knew that Fern was letting them have more milk than was their share, but they have absolutely no ... love!
>They don't love each other, they don't love the Herd, all they care about is milk, and they've had so much milk already! You tried giving them hugs, they bit at your fluff, you tried nuzzling them, but they stank of sorry poopies and peed on your muzzle, you even tried singing them to sleep, and all that did was make them scream at the tops of their lungs.
>The Hoomin said they'd even sorry-pooped all over each other, and the safe place he made for them, and their own not-mumma-milk thingies!
>They ruined all of that, fighting over the not-mumma-milk thingies! Such terrible, selfish babies! They won't listen to anyone, not you, not Silk, not even the Hoomin, who looked so wretched when he brought them out to you earlier!
>So ... only one thing for it. Time for the Babies to be made to think about how bad they are being.
>And since they are being so bad, they don't get to be with other Fluffies. Oh no. You're doing this the way that Old Smarty Friend would have done it.
>It doesn't take long for your yelling to get one of the older Fillies to come over, and you explain she is to keep the Purple Foal in place. No hugs, no cuddles, no nice things, it's a Bad Baby that gave sorry poopies to it's sister and bites and pees and won't be nice.
>Once the Filly understands, you grab the squalling Orange Foal and shuffle over to the garden, looking for the right ... ah! There's a likely spot, a place of soft earth with a bush growing right overhead.
>Holding the baby in your mouth and digging with your hooves is tiring work, but with Silk and her Giant Fluffy Monster friend looking after your Herd, you know they are safe.
>The Giant Fluffy Monster looks like it could eat a Hoomin whole, and the Hoomin who is it's friend says it's only a baby!
>By the First Fluffy, how big will the Giant Fluffy Monster be when it's an adult? That means Silk was only hurt by your former Smarty Friend because he snuck past a baby monster and hurt it's Fluffy Mumma Friend?
>You don't want to think about what would have happened to your Herd when the former Smarty Friend had brought the Herd with him to this place if the Giant Fluffy Monster was fully grown!
>Finally, the hole is deep enough so that the Foal's head and shoulders just clear the top, and you drop the baby down into the whole and push it around till it is on it's belly ... and then proceed to push the dirt in and pack it loosely around the Foal with your soft hoof.
>Now the little Foal squeaks for you to love it, but you're wise to this tactic. You've had dozens of Foals, and you know when one is honestly repentant, and when one is lying through it's fluff.
>It breaks your heart, to see a healthy, fat, pretty Foal that is so smart it can speak so many words so quickly, and it's a liar. But then, it is the Pink Smarty Friend's baby, and he's smart but a complete bastard, and the Foal's mother, Fern, is a Meanie who makes the whole Herd bow down at her hooves because the Smarty Friend gives her babies.
>After this, the Foal will know it's place in the Herd. Your Herd.
>When you're done, only the Foal's head and shoulders are visible, the rest of the Foal covered loosely with dirt that has been patted into place with your soft little hoof.
>It's a very recognisable spot too, which is just as important. You want to teach these greedy, selfish little Fluffers a lesson, not abandon them!
>The bush you chose has round, oily-green leaves and small white flowers, and to make sure you remember, you leap up as best you can and grab a branch, grunting as your weight causes the branch to bend down, and then snap.
>You jab the ragged, broken end into the grass, flowers pointed towards the Hoomin's Safe Place and glare at the Foal, who is shivering in fear and staring at you with big, teary eyes.
>"Yuu du dis. Yuu haf tuu much miwk-nummies. Yuu nu shawe. Yuu is Meanie tuu yuu bwudda an' tu Gween. Yuu stay dere tiww Cowbeww tink yuu sowwy, den yuu come back tu Hewd." You says, loudly and slowly, ignoring the Foal's peeping and sobbing. "Yuu Mumma was baaaaaaaad, buh yuu gon' be Guud Fwuffy. Cowbeww gon' make yuu a Guud Fwuffy, make yuu wisten, make yuu be nice to Fwuffies! Ev'wy time yuu bad fwom now on, yuu go in Sowwy Howe tiww yuu be Guud Fwuffy aww time!"
>And then you turn your back on it and trot back to the Filly holding the Purple Foal, hardening your heart to the desperate peeping of the Orange foal as you start too look for another, separate place where it's safe to leave the Purple foal, alone without anyone to talk to, play with or give it's love to, and where they can think about why what they were doing was bad.
>You'll leave them in their Sorry Holes until your teats are full of milk, and then you'll bring them back to have milk-nummies with your babies, and teach them to share.
>And if that fails ... back into their Sorry Holes until they start being Good Fluffies, for however long as it takes.

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>Be Silk, the Fluffy Mumma ... and this is wonderful! So many Fluffies to play with, who want to hug you, who compliment you on being so pretty and clean and lovely.
>Eeeeeeeeeeeeee it's so much fun!
>So many Fillies and Colts who want you to play with them, you can run and play like you used to, and Bruce is there to look after all the babies ...
>Wait, when was the last time you played with Bruce? Oh no! You've been neglecting your friend!
>"Wai'! Wai'! Siwk jus' wemembah!" You shout as the Fillies and Colts babble at the selection of toys Daddy brought out for everyone to play with.
>Right now, he's talking to Cowbell over at the fence, and looks rather shocked at whatever it is Cowbell is telling him.
>"Wha' yuu wemembah?" A Colt asks, looking nervous. "Bad ting?"
>"Yah, bad ting! Siwk nu pway wit' Bwuce fo' .... many bwite-times! Mus' pway wit' Bwuce, he Siwk's fwiend, hewp Siwk aww time!" You bleat in alarm, rushing out of the group to shuffle over to Bruce, who is sitting there with the Foals nestled under his chin, and throw yourself at his shoulder and give him a great big hug.
>"Siwk am so sowwy, Bwuce! Nu mean tu fow'get!" You tell him, hugging his large, fluffy leg as best you can.
>Thankfully, Bruce is so nice, he forgives you. You can hear it in the way his tail thumps on the ground, and how eager he is to nuzzle you and go "AWWR RWWWR RWWR!"
>You don't understand why Bruce can't talk like you or Daddy, and it makes you so sad sometimes, but you do understand what he wants, most of the time.
>"We gon' pway, Bwuce! Buh Siwk haf tu put baybehs somewhe' safe ..." You promise your friend, looking around for a safe place ...
>Bruce's bed again? Maybe under the stairs? All the Fillies and Colts want to play with the balls and toys, they are all so happy that everyone can play with so many toys, it wouldn't be right to ask somebody to look after your babies for you ...
>Daddy's busy with Cowbell, crouching down and stroking the Mare's back as she starts to cry again. Poor, poor Cowbell.
>You feel so bad for her, and all the Feral Mares of her Herd. Imagine, thinking that a baby was bad because it smelled terrible! But you also remember that smell that made you so afraid, deep inside, like there was something terrible inside the White Baby.
>Cowbell must still be so sad, but it does give you an idea! You can take your Babies and Cowbell's Babies over to Daddy, and ask him to keep them safe while you bring Cowbell over, and you can all play with Bruce!
>"Baybehs, come tu Mumma! Nee' haf Daddy wook afta yuu!" You say, and sing your Mumma song as loud as you can ... holy!
>SO MANY BABIES!
>Your Babies start to come sliding down Bruce's shoulders, giggling as they are tickled by Bruce's long, soft fluff, the Fern's Baby, Green, then Cowbell's two Foals, chirping happily "Wed Mumma!", and then the older Foals, the ones who can run and speak full words, come zipping down Bruce's sides, chanting "Wed Mumma! Gif Huggies tu Wed Mumma!"
>Too many babies! You catch your babies, then Cowbell's, and you're knocked onto your back as six Foals clutch onto your chest and neck, giggling and squeaking "Mumma!" and "Wed Mumma!", and then all of you are buried in the other Foals, who all want to give you hugs and nuzzle you.
>Hugs are not a bad thing, but too many, all at once! You can't move! You have to play with Bruce, he's been so good for so long!
>"Daaaaaaaaah-deeeeeeeeeeh, heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeewp!" You manage to yell before you're squished. Too many babies! You can't deal with all these babies at once!